


Siscéal

by EclecticInkling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Series, Fairy AU, M/M, Multi, birb family, kind of a Wicked Lovely au?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticInkling/pseuds/EclecticInkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hidden world of magical beings. The fae, faeries, beings of legend and of magic. These are their stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siscéal

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a gift for my dear Kota~  
> Thank you for being such a wonderful friend. I'm truly blessed to have met you. Merry Christmas, my love.
> 
> Many elements of this universe are inspired by Melissa Marr's "Wicked Lovely" series. Particularly the faerie court system, which I took straight from the books. If you have a chance, I highly recommend them.

Winter was coming. Keiji could feel it.

He lifted his face into the wind as he walked along the banks of the river and let out a slow, misty breath. Every day the mist grow more visible, grew icier, Keiji’s growing strength showcased in the air of waning summer. Soon it would be time for Keiji to walk the earth and spread his frost deep into the ground and air, putting nature to sleep for the season under a thick blanket of ice and snow. That was his duty as the Winter King. Just as much as spreading warmth and calling the plants to life once more was Koutarou’s duty as the Summer King.

Keiji wondered where the other monarch was now. Perhaps frolicking with the fae of his court, enjoying one last summer revelry before summer’s power was overcome by Keiji’s winter. It would be just like Koutarou.

He’d tried to get Keiji to attend one of those revelries once, deep in the heat of summer, despite Keiji’s protests about how painful it would be for him. The touch of the summer fae always melted the frost coating Keiji’s skin, and left trails of sun burns wherever their fingers lingered. And Keiji didn’t mind so much when there was only one summer fae to deal with— he was the strongest of the winter fae and able to heal in seconds if given the chance— but to be surrounded on all sides, during the time when his strength was at its lowest, by his opposing element was more than Keiji could handle.

He would not go. No matter how much Koutarou pleaded. No matter how hard Koutarou tried to convince him when it was just the two of them, trading intimacy in the safety of a season-neutral home. No matter how sad it made Koutarou when Keiji continued to refuse. Keiji would never— _could_ never allow himself to go.

The Winter King trailed his fingertips over the passing leaves, watching as frost crawled over the browning foliage in tiny swirls. He could not yet cover the leaves in frost, nor could he make it stay for more than a few minutes, but soon it would not matter. In a matter of weeks, his very footsteps would freeze the ground, breath calling down arctic wind and storms of snow, and power would be his, rising from deep within and filling his entire being with the cold Keiji could no longer live without.

His fae would grow stronger as well. Too long had they been confined to the everlasting winter that surrounded his home. The first snowfall would bring them from his gardens to the streets of the town, where they could roam and play all they wished. As they should.

He longed for the day to come. To see the Brownies dancing alongside the Drakes and the Fossegrim in the town square at night, where no human eyes could see. To allow the Cailleac Bhuer to stroll as she wished, and help where she might to correct the mischief of the Duendes and the Wichtln. To hear once more the music of the Gandharvas. And to let the Hags carry winter across the land as Kul spread the ice through the water.

As their strength grew with the winter, so would Keiji’s, connected to his court as he was. They were, in essence, his children with the connection they shared. Which was just as well, for he would probably never have a child of his own. That he had resigned himself to long ago.

Keiji stopped, having come to the edge of town, the furthest he dared go from his court while summer still held power. Here, the small river turned into an even smaller stream which cut through an expanse of open grass; a park where humans of all types had gathered to enjoy their last days of warmth beneath the sun. They would not see him, of course. Nor the frost which crept steadily across the grass from where his feet were planted. Humans were never able to see past the veil of the fae unless they were permitted to. And Keiji was not interested in donning a glamour in order to walk among them in a human form.

He closed his silver eyes and listened to the easy laughter of the humans around him, mixed with the steady bubble of water and whistle of wind. Soothing. So soothing.

Keiji was unsure how long he stood there, just relaxing in the last breath of summer, until the human voices began to disappear and the light behind his eyelids began to fade. A sudden warmth appeared at Keiji’s back, unnatural for this time of year without a source to provide it. Taking in a deep breath, Keiji opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, looking at Koutarou in all his sun-kissed glory.

“Keiji,” the Summer King greeted, his voice like warm rain on Keiji’s skin. “I thought I might find you here.”

Keiji nodded. “Koutarou.”

He was surprised to see Koutarou here, away from his court, which must still be in the midst of its last week of revelries. Never before in all the centuries they had known and courted one another had Koutarou left his court in the last week of summer. As their King, he had a duty to his fae to bestow as much warmth on them as possible before the onset of winter, when his court would be too weak for such celebrations. Keiji was no different with his own court, and had expected nothing else from Koutarou.

So what had happened to bring Koutarou away from his fae? What had brought the Summer King to seek out Keiji when his court needed him the most?

Keiji turned around and looked him over: sun-bleached hair, golden eyes, tanned skin, strong muscles. He appeared as he normally did, oozing sunlight from every pore and flash of his teeth, except for the gentle crease between his brows which spoke of some hidden concern. In his arms, he held some bundle of cloth, though he kept it tucked so closely to his own body that Keiji could not see what it was. The protective hold, however, was enough to tell him that Koutarou’s worry was somehow related to it.

Bokuto noticed the direction of Keiji’s gaze, and his warm smile melted away. “I need your help,” he said quietly. Uncharacteristic of the Summer King that Keiji knew.

“With what?”

Koutarou grimaced, and then shifted the bundle in his arms so that Keiji could peer inside. It squirmed a bit from the movement, which Keiji found odd until he leaned closer and saw the young, human child nestled safely within the blankets, fast asleep.

Keiji’s heart skipped a beat. Where had Koutarou gotten this child? Where were his parents? Were they going frantic searching for him? Why did Koutarou need his help in this?

He’d heard tales of fae from around the world kidnapping children to raise as their own, and had even seen some of these children for himself in the long-ago centuries. Changelings, they were called. Replaced in the human world by golems or disguised blocks of wood while they were hidden away behind the veil. Keiji had never been fond of the practice, nor had he believed Koutarou to be. So then why the child, so small and young, with only the beginnings of wild orange hair atop his head?

“I found the boy,” Koutarou revealed, “all alone on the streets. He’d been left in a trash can. I couldn’t just leave him.”

Keiji let out a sigh of relief. So he hadn’t misjudged Koutarou all these years. The Summer King had merely been acting on his nature, preserving a life which probably wouldn’t have lasted the night. But even so.

“You cannot raise a human child, Koutarou. He does not belong in this world.”

“That’s why I need your help,” Koutarou said. “I can make him fae, but not on my own. The summer would burn him too quickly. I need your winter to balance the heat.” The Summer King traced Keiji’s cheek with a hand. Steam erupted where his fingers touched, the frost on Keiji’s cheeks vanishing under the heat of Koutarou’s skin. “Help me to give him a chance, Keiji.”

The Winter King hesitated, staring at the small child in Koutarou’s arms. The child who probably wouldn’t survive without their help.

Keiji should have said no. It was rare for humans to be made fae. A privilege granted only to those whom had proven their loyalty to their chosen court. This child had not done so, was unable to, and even more he might not carry the strength, as young as he was, to survive the transformation from human to fae. Keiji should have said no, at least for the child’s sake.

But Keiji couldn’t.

To say no would be a lie, and that was one thing Keiji could not do as a fae. He was, as all fae were, unable to speak falsehoods, and the truth of the matter was that Keiji wanted to do as Koutarou asked. Not only to please Koutarou, but also because, by pouring some of his power into the transformation, the child would be bound to him in a way no other fae was. The child would be reborn through Koutarou and Keiji as their son. And Keiji longed for that.

After a moment, he placed his hand over Koutarou’s where it rested around the child. “I will help you,” he whispered, looking up into Koutarou’s bright, golden eyes.

Sunbursts exploded within Koutarou’s eyes at Keiji’s answer, and a small field of flowers grew up about the Summer King’s feet. Keiji felt his breath catch at the wide smile which overtook Koutarou’s tanned face, and when Koutarou leaned toward him, exuberant and warm, so warm, Keiji met him halfway, pressing his cold lips to Koutarou’s and letting the familiar burn rush through him to the very tips of his toes.

They pulled away quickly, conscious of the imbalance of seasons which would harm them both if they lingered, and Keiji looked down at the child. Together, he and Koutarou placed their fingers to the child’s forehead and slowly, carefully, poured their powers into the small being, bit by tiny bit. As the winter engulfed the boy, Keiji felt a tenuous link begin to form between them, and then to solidify as the child’s body accepted the change. The link was faint, as it was a link split between both himself and Koutarou, but it was there and it was strong. And, when Keiji felt the final strand in the thread snap into place, he knew they had succeeded.

Keiji pulled his hand back and looked down at the child. His son. _His son_.

“Shouyou,” Koutarou said. “We’ll call him Shouyou.”

Keeping his gaze on the child, Keiji nodded. “Shouyou,” he repeated, liking how the name fell from his mouth. It felt right.

Shouyou shifted in Koutarou’s arms, tiny yawn pulling at his mouth, and then slowly blinked his wide, brown eyes open to look first at Koutarou, then at Keiji. And then he smiled, and Keiji felt his entire world shift. His court, his fae, they all retained an important place in his soul, but none so much as this tiny creature whom Keiji could call his own. It was terrifying, and wonderful, and Keiji was so, very lost.

“Our Shouyou,” he whispered, taking his son into his arms and holding him close. Feeling his son’s tiny heartbeat match with his own. “Welcome to our world.”


End file.
